


(304): His shirt was in the kitchen sink this morning, I’m pretty sure my roommate knows.

by l0g0phile



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Steve Rogers, Bad Puns, Bucky is Thirsty AF, F/M, Fluff, Halloween, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve is Thirsty AF, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-20 03:37:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8234740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/l0g0phile/pseuds/l0g0phile
Summary: Are Clint and Natasha dating? Who knows, but they sure FUCK A LOT.And loudly too, which makes life difficult for Clint's roommate, Bucky. Luckily, he's not alone. Natasha has a roommate as well.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [inkdust](http://archiveofourown.org/users/inkdust) for beta'ing, what would I do without you. (Die probably.)

Bucky glanced over the back of the couch when he heard the front door unlatch, and smiled at Clint. A smile that faded almost immediately when Bucky saw that Clint was not alone. “Hey, Clint. …Natasha.” With a sigh, Bucky stood, turning off the baseball game.

“Hey, James. Don’t look so happy to see me.” Natasha smirked at Bucky as she helped herself to one of _his_ beers out of the fridge. Bucky swiped it from her after she’d opened it, glaring at her as he took a swig. She raised an eyebrow as she grabbed another. “Don’t you give me that look, who was it who bought you this six pack?”

Bucky slumped on the counter. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t you have homework you should be doing? It’s a Tuesday!”

“We’re not all slackers. Did you finish the Tolstoy reading?” She laced her hand in Clint’s, playing with his fingers absently. He stole the bottle and took a drink himself before handing it back to her.

“You’re not. He is.” Bucky nodded at Clint, who took a bit too long to look indignant. “You’re a bad influence on my precious roommate. And no. Not yet. Why can’t I just read it in English? It’s the same thing, right?”

“Wouldn’t that kinda defeat the point of a Russian major?” Clint was now leaning a little too close to Natasha for Bucky’s comfort.

“Shut up, Barton. You expect me to believe you’re an ace physics major?”

“You bet your ass I am.” He grinned and looked from Bucky to Natasha, and Bucky got that sinking feeling he got sometimes before something horrible happened. “In my bed, it's perpetual motion all night long, baby.”

Bucky and Natasha both groaned, and Natasha dropped Clint’s hand and took several steps away from him. Clint just cackled.

Natasha was already halfway through her beer. Time was running out for Bucky to escape. He took another gulp of his. “Why don’t you two go on a date or something?”

They both stared at him like he’d just suggested they take Professor Gagnon’s class on the science of maple syrup.

“…That would be weird.” Clint said it, but Natasha clearly agreed.

“Dammit, guys. What if I don’t wanna go out?” Bucky grumbled, leaning on the counter with both elbows. “And there’s that Tolstoy reading you were so kind to bring up.”

“Hey, man, I’m not kicking you out! It’s your place too!”

“Yeah, we’ll try to keep it down.” Bucky could see the smirk behind Natasha’s sincere expression.

Bucky snorted. “Ri-ight.”

Natasha’s empty bottle clanged in the bin, and Clint perked up like Pavlov’s dog. Bucky rolled his eyes as they headed for Clint’s room. She probably had him just as well trained in there. _God, why did I just think that._

Natasha paused and tossed her keys in Bucky’s direction. “Go to my place, then. You can sleep in my bed. The sheets are clean. Probably.”

Bucky shoved the keys in his pocket with a grimace. _Fantastic._ With another sigh, he grabbed a few things from his room and shoved them in his bookbag.

“Hey, Nat,” he heard from down the hall, “I'm attracted to you like the Earth is attracted to the Sun—with a large force inversely proportional to the distance squared.”

“Clint, I swear to God, one more and I’m not sucking your dick for a month.”

“Yeah, okay, time to go.” Bucky slung his bag over his shoulder and evacuated the premises.

 

* * *

 

At least it wasn’t a long walk to Nat’s place. And it was still on the summer side of fall, so it wasn’t too cold with a jacket. Still. Having to vacate his own damn apartment in the middle of the damn week. He could really only blame himself—it was thanks to him that Clint and Natasha had met to begin with. “They both owe me,” Bucky grumbled as he turned the key in the lock.

The first thing he saw was a broad, muscular back. Perfectly smooth skin ran down to rather fitted lounge pants. Were those sheep? Owner of said sheep pants turned, and a streak of blue paint on a naked pec caught Bucky’s eye.

“Um…?”

“OH! Oh, uh, sorry! I’m Bucky! Uh, you must be Steve!”

Steve. As in Natasha’s roommate, Steve. Who Natasha had failed to mention was also the same hot-as-fuck guy Bucky occasionally saw her with after her art history class. Thanks, Nat.

Hot Artist Steve looked a bit perplexed, and Bucky realized he still hadn’t explained why he’d walked into the guy’s house. “I’m Clint’s roommate.”

Realization dawned on Steve’s face instantly. “Ah, in that case, come on in! Got thrown out, huh?” Steve chuckled, setting down his paintbrush and grabbing a towel. Damn, his laugh was great too. Bucky kind of hoped he didn’t notice the paint on his chest or the spot on his cheek.

“I think I remember seeing you with her, actually.” Steve was walking toward him, or rather, toward the fridge. But regardless, he was coming closer, so Bucky quickly pulled himself the fuck together. _No drooling, you’ll scare the beautiful shirtless man away._ Steve took two beers from the fridge, holding one out to Bucky. “Russian major, right?”

Bucky popped the bottle cap off with his left thumb. Steve started to offer him an opener, then stared at his open beer and put it away.

“ _Да._ And I'll go ahead and answer the follow up—no, I have no idea what I want to do with it.”

Steve laughed. _Note to self: make that happen again._ “Hey, no judgment here. Fine Arts major.”

“Well, cheers to inevitable poverty then, huh?”

Steve clinked his bottle against Bucky’s. “And to temporary eviction.”

“Well…” Bucky fiddled with the bottle cap in his pocket, listening to the idle sound of metal on metal. “I guess technically I wasn’t thrown out, they did say I could stay…” Bucky rolled his eyes with a snort.

Steve grimaced. “Yeah, I tried that exactly once.”

“God, and it doesn’t even matter how loud you have the TV…” Bucky shuddered.

Steve laughed. “I’m glad they have each other, I am, but I gotta say it is a pain to haul a wet canvas elsewhere.”

Bucky nodded at the easel in the living room. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Steve waved a hand. “It’s fine, it was time for a break anyway.”

Bucky took a few steps toward the living room, glancing at Steve, who nodded. “You’re really talented.” He hesitated at the edge of the hardwood, toeing off his boots before stepping down onto the carpet of the sunken living room.

The painting was even more impressive up close. It was the silhouette of a woman in an evening dress stretched out on a chaise lounge. She didn’t have a face yet, but even these rough beginnings showed the artist’s ability.

“Thanks. My Portrait and Figurative Art teacher is pretty ruthless, so I’m not real confident.” Steve shook his head. “All those horror stories about a BFA are true. What about you? Russian can’t be easy.”

Bucky dropped his bag on the floor next to the couch and sat down. Steve did say make himself comfortable, right?

“In that bag is an assignment I’ve been avoiding for a week now. I’ll admit I didn’t know what I was getting myself into when I declared.” Bucky shrugged. “But if I switch now, there’s no way I’d graduate on time. Even if I’ve finished all my gen ed requirements.” Smartest thing Bucky had done yet in his college career.

“Hey, they say BFAs are always in for at least five years, so at least you won’t be alone.”

“And there’s no way Clint’s finishing in four years.”

“And even Natasha wouldn’t be able to finish a double major in four.” Steve looked doubtful. “…I don’t think. So looks like we’ll still have the whole gang when we hit year five.” He smiled at Bucky (whose heart absolutely did not flutter). “Don’t let me distract you if you have work to do.” He reached for his brush. “I should get a bit more done on this anyway.”

 _Don’t let me distract you_ , he says. In all his shirtless perfection. Yeah. Right. Bucky pulled his books out of his bag. He couldn’t very well say, “That’s alright, I’ll just sit here and stare at you.”

Instead, he sat and stared at him with his Russian book in his lap. Steve’s brow was furrowed as he took his brush to canvas with light, quick strokes. After a few moments, he glanced over, completely catching Bucky in the act. Bucky quickly gestured to the room around them to hopefully cover his ass.

“This is a great place you’ve got, by the way. Now I really don’t get why Natasha would come to my place instead of dragging Clint here.”

Steve smirked. “Maybe she’s afraid he’ll wreck the place.”

Bucky laughed. “He fuckin' would too.”

Steve went back to painting. “Natasha’s the one who found it. Her name is on the lease. When she heard I was looking for a place last year, she offered.”

That further supported Bucky’s suspicion that Natasha was secretly rich. Also, Natasha has been hiding this man from him for an entire year? What the hell.

Steve frowned and for a second Bucky was afraid he was going to call him out on fucking him with his eyes. “Do you know… I mean, are they dating or what?”

Bucky laughed, only partially with relief. “Shit, I was hoping you’d tell me. Hell if I know.” Would this be a good opportunity to say, _“What about you? Are you dating anyone?”_ Probably not. That would probably be awkward.

Steve shook his head with a chuckle, dipping his brush in red paint. “Glad I’m not the only one in the dark.”

For the next fifteen minutes they worked in comfortable silence. Bucky actually managed to finish most of the chapter, miracle of miracles. He set his book down on the giant chest that functioned as a coffee table. Maybe that’s where Nat hid her money. She was the only student Bucky knew who got furniture from somewhere other than IKEA or the side of the road. And clearly she wasn’t afraid to turn on the heat. It was warm in here, and it definitely had nothing to do with sweating from a combination of lust and nerves. Bucky pulled off his jacket.

“Oh!” Steve said, like he’d just solved a mystery, and Bucky looked up to see Steve staring at his left arm.

Bucky wasn’t offended. He couldn’t really talk when it came to staring. But the reaction wasn’t quite what he’d expected. Steve’s expression wasn’t one of horror or pity, but something more like…relief?

“Uh, I, ah, I’m sorry.” Oh, he was flustered now.

“It’s fine. But, uh… Can’t say that’s the usual reaction I get?”

Steve was blushing. Wow, that was cute. “Well, uh, earlier when you opened your beer bottle, then there was a clinking noise…” He chuckled bashfully. “My powers of deduction had hit a roadblock.”

Bucky laughed. “You’re an interesting guy, Steve.”

Steve rubbed the back of his head and quickly looked back at his canvas. “Heh, thanks?”

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest. “I think that’s enough homework for one night, don’t you?”

Steve raised an eyebrow and rinsed his brush. “What’d you have in mind?”

 _Don’t say licking my way from your jaw to your abs and all the way down_. “Got any good movies?”

Steve grabbed his brushes, pallet, and water. “Sure, just let me clean up.” He carried his supplies up the small step and down the hall. _Please don’t put on a shirt. Please._

The second Steve was out of sight, Bucky ran a hand through his hair and sniffed his pits. Thank God he’d showered that morning. Should he pull his hair up? Maybe he should text Natasha, maybe she knew how Steve felt about ponytails. Oh right, she was busy. Which was why he was here. He scooted toward the middle of the couch, just to make sure Steve couldn’t sit too far away. _Wow, am I sad._

Bucky had just enough time to pretend to look relaxed when Steve came back in. And praise God, he was still shirtless. Looked like he noticed the blue paint, though. Too bad. That smile, though. Shit.

Steve picked up a couple more beers from the kitchen, and Bucky held out his hands for both. “Here, let me.”

Steve grinned when Bucky popped the cap off for him. “Thanks. That’s handy.”

Bucky groaned. “Please tell me that wasn’t a pun.”

Steve blinked, then cackled. _Oh no, he likes puns. Well, no one is perfect._ Bucky couldn’t help but smile himself.

“So? What do you want to watch?” Steve flipped open the DVD cabinet underneath the giant flat-screen TV. Seriously, where was Natasha hiding that money?

“What’ve you got?” Bucky squatted down to get a better look. There was quite a variety, from horror to romance to action to comedy. Bucky wondered which were Steve’s and which were Natasha’s. Stuck on that thought, he looked up at Steve. “I’ll pick the genre if you pick the movie?”

“Or I could pick the genre and you pick the movie.” Steve smirked down at Bucky, and Bucky absolutely didn’t think about what he would like to do while he was down there.

“I said it first.”

“I said it better.”

They stared each other down until Bucky gave in with a dramatic sigh. “Alright, fine. I’ll pick.” He closed his eyes, dragging his finger along the shelves to a random point. He held up the case to show Steve. “ _Elf_. We’re watching _Elf_.”

Steve let out an adorable surprised laugh. “In October?”

Bucky popped the DVD in the player. “You said I could pick. I picked.”

Steve shrugged and shook his head. “Alright. _Elf_ it is.”

Bucky snuck one more glance up at Steve’s naked abs and reluctantly rose to his feet.

“Hold on.” Steve lifted the lid of the coffee table and pulled a fuzzy blanket out of the chest that apparently did not hold Natasha’s secret stash. _Maybe there’s a false bottom._

Bucky just stared at Steve (he was getting pretty good at that) as he started yanking the pillows and cushions off the couch. Bucky laughed when it finally clicked. “A pillow nest! Excellent idea, Steve.” _Oh my God, how am I going to keep from climbing him._

Steve gave him a bashful smile. “I’ve always liked watching movies this way.”

Steve sat close enough that the line of their arms touched. Damn, his _biceps._ He flipped on the TV and they both laughed as Christmas music filled the room. Whatever, _Elf_ was great.

Really great, apparently. Steve was giggling twenty minutes in, and by the time Buddy went to work with his dad, Steve was snorting laughing. Bucky was watching Steve as much as he was watching the movie. _This is amazing._

Steve caught him looking and covered his face to hide his blush, which, sorry Steve, Bucky definitely saw. “Stop staring! It’s funny, okay?”

Bucky snickered. “Don’t be embarrassed, it’s a cute snort.”

“Bucky! Shut up!” But then Buddy got hit by a taxi again, and Steve had a laughing fit that led to tears.

They were both gasping for air by the time the credits hit. “Holy shit, Steve. I never want to watch another comedy without you ever again.”

Steve’s eyes were bright. “Maybe we can watch this again when it’s actually Christmas time.”

Though Bucky had only had the two beers (well, three including the one back at his place) he felt warm and pleasantly lazy. Bucky’s gaze drifted to Steve’s painting. “Hey, who’s the girl? Girlfriend?”

“Huh? Oh, no, I don’t have a—she was just a model for our class.” Bucky felt Steve turn slightly to look at the painting.

“Hmm. I thought artists’ models were naked.”

Steve sputtered. “Not always!”

Bucky turned his head to grin at Steve, who was much closer than Bucky had realized. “So is it artist’s choice or model’s?”

“Ah…in that case, it was the teacher’s. Anatomy is important, but fabric can be tricky too.”

“Well, if you ever need a model…” _What am I saying. Why don’t I just offer to take my clothes off for him right here and now._

But Steve just smiled and looked him over. Bucky had to suppress a shiver. “Yeah? Maybe I’ll take you up on that sometime.” The corner of Steve’s mouth quirked up. “Though you’d have to be able to sit still for long periods of time. You don’t strike me as the most patient person.”

“Hey, I am the definition of patience.” Proof being he hadn’t jumped Steve yet. “I would be the best model ever.”

Steve laughed. “Then you’ll definitely have to model for me.”

They had stretched out, more lying down than sitting. If he tilted his head slightly to the right, Bucky got a perfect view of Steve’s chest, slowly rising and falling. It was almost a shame Steve was an artist, because if anyone should be a model, it was this guy. “I’d like to see more.” He peeked up at Steve’s face. “More of your art, I mean.”

Steve nodded, and Bucky detected a slight blush despite the dimness of the room. “I don’t do much painting, though, actually. Mostly just pencil drawings.”

“Do you always draw people?”

“I like drawing people, but I also do a lot of landscapes. But not necessarily what most people think of as landscapes. I grew up in the city, so I used to draw a lot of cityscapes. I like capturing the daily life of average people, you know? The man at the corner store sweeping out front as he opens up shop. The Italian woman writing specials on the board outside her restaurant. The smile on the face of a mother in the park as she watches her son.” Steve’s words painted a picture as vivid as the portrait on the easel, and Bucky’s mind conjured scenes from his own childhood, the streets of Brooklyn. He sank into the warmth of Steve’s voice and the heat of his arm pressed against his own. Maybe he didn’t hate Natasha after all.

 

* * *

 

The sun pressed against Bucky’s eyelids, and he frowned, cuddling closer to the warm body beneath him.

Wait.

Bucky’s eyes snapped open. He was curled up against Steve’s side, metal arm draped across his chest, legs entwined. Steve’s arm tightened around Bucky as he sighed in his sleep, and Bucky’s breath caught. He couldn’t look away from the soft sweep of Steve’s eyelashes. The way his lips parted just slightly. Bucky felt a thump in his chest.

_Oh, fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IDK how long this is going to be, my plan is vague, but you can expect chapter 4 by Halloween. Chances are there will be smut, fluff, and feels in the future.
> 
> The sheep pants were a direct reference to [Owlet's Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail](http://archiveofourown.org/series/195689).
> 
> I am on [tumblr!](http://l0g0philewrites.tumblr.com) Come talk to me!


	2. Chapter 2

Steve was frying eggs when he heard Natasha unlock the door.

“Oh, smells delicious.” She dropped her purse on the entryway table and came over to lean on the counter, snagging a piece of turkey bacon off the plate. Steve preferred regular bacon, but Natasha was the one who did most of the shopping, and it wasn’t that bad.

“The eggs are over easy. Want some?” He slid the first batch onto the plate and cracked two more into the pan.

Natasha helped herself to some coffee. “I wouldn’t want to steal all your breakfast.” She raised her eyebrow at the pile of food, snagging an egg and a few pieces of bacon.

“Ha ha. Well, I’ve got to survive Figurative Art and art history before lunch, you know.”

“So, how was your night?” Natasha nipped off the end of a piece of bacon, the epitome of casual.

“Oh, good. Good. You?” Steve joined her at the table.

“I don’t know if you met or not, but I sent James over here last night.”

“James?” Steve didn’t have to feign confusion.

“You know, Clint’s roommate.”

“Oh. Yes, we met.” Apparently Bucky was a nickname. That made sense—who would name their kid Bucky?

“Ah, did you?” While Steve had been busy with his breakfast, Natasha had apparently finished hers. She was leaning forward on her elbows, fingers laced under her chin.

“Yes. He seems nice.” Steve continued inhaling his eggs and yolk-covered bacon in between evasive answers. _I know what you’re playing, Nat._

“Yeah, he is.” She smirked. “Bit of a smartass though.”

Steve snorted into his coffee mug. He took a nice, long sip to recover. “Well, he would have to be in order to put up with Clint, wouldn’t he?”

“It would probably come in handy with you, too.”

Steve remembered the way the corner of Bucky’s mouth quirked up in a smirk. _Don’t be embarrassed, it’s a cute snort._ His heart quickened. “Well, I’m off to class.” He snatched up his bag and canvas.

“I’ll see you in art history, Steve.”

Why did that feel so ominous?

 

* * *

 

Steve picked an easel at the back of the room and arranged his space, trying to avoid looking at the woman on the canvas. He’d planned on finishing this yesterday. _Well, that’s what I get for ogling Bucky all night._ Not that he had any regrets. A smile was creeping over his face when he felt eyes on him.

“Oh, hey, Wanda.”

“Steve. You look awfully pleased for someone with an unfinished painting. Unless she’s…meant not to have a face?”

Steve grimaced at the painting in front of him. “Yeah, no, that was not my plan.”

Wanda shrugged. “Well, maybe you’ll be lucky and Ms. Moreau will not show?”

The door swung open and Ms. Moreau glided in. Steve’s stomach dropped. For such a slight woman, she could instill an impressive amount of terror.

“If your brushes are not moving, you are wasting time. Make finishing touches on your paintings. I will come around the room and critique.”

Steve swallowed and quickly mixed the red he needed to finish the woman’s lips.

Wanda leaned over to look at his canvas. “How are your speed painting skills?”

“About to get some practice, I guess,” Steve grumbled.

And he still needed to paint her eyes. He hadn’t even decided on a color yet. Maybe a cool grey, with a hint of blue, sharp. Then he realized whose face went with the eyes he was picturing. _Goddammit._

“Steven.”

Steve froze in the middle of outlining the eyes and slowly turned to face his teacher. “Ms. Moreau…”

“Your painting appears to be missing a few key elements.” She peered at the work over her glasses.

Steve laughed nervously. “Ah, yes, ma’am.”

She clicked her tongue and wheeled around to look Steve in the eye. “Aside from the obvious, you have a host of other flaws in this one, Steven. As usual, your technique is impeccable, but you well know that what the artist feels can be seen in the art. According to this piece, you feel nothing.” She paused, studying Steve’s face. “Perhaps by the time you finish you can find a bit more…passion.” She turned on her heel to move to her next victim, throwing a final comment over her shoulder. “Oh, and I expect this class period is all the time you’ll need?”

 

* * *

 

That was not all the time he needed. He trudged to art history in shame. At least Natasha showed mercy for once and didn’t grill him about last night. After getting ripped to shreds by Ms. Moreau, it was a relief to just sit and stare vacantly at the board. His notebook sat blank in front of him until people started filing out of the lecture hall.

Steve held the door for Natasha as they exited the building. “I’m looking forward to seeing the museum exhibit next week.”

“Yeah, I heard it was really—Oh, hello James!” Natasha stopped suddenly, and Steve looked up to see none other than Bucky on the sidewalk in front of them. His hair was pulled up in a bun at the nape of his neck, he was wearing a leather jacket, and Steve’s mouth was suddenly really dry.

“Oh, Natasha, Steve. How’s it going?” Bucky smiled and God, where was Steve’s sketchpad, because he needed that smile on paper.

“H-hey Bucky.” _Dammit, Natasha is right here and I’m never going to hear the end if I don’t keep it together._

“You left before I saw you this morning. Hope my bed was comfortable enough for you.”

“Natasha. My mattress came in a vacuum-sealed bag. _Any_ bed is more comfortable than mine.”

“James, that’s horrible.” The expression on her face looked like he’d just confessed to spending every night on a park bench. “I can give you a loan if you need one. You’re going to be walking with a cane by thirty.”

“Hell, no. I don’t want to know what kind of interest you’d charge.” Bucky crossed his arms, giving her a wary look.

“James, is that what you think of me?” Steve noticed she didn’t deny it.

“He’s got you pegged, Nat.” Steve grinned at Bucky. “You’re better off with the foam mattress, trust me.”

Bucky’s eyes got wide. “It all makes sense, now! She probably bought you lunch once and now she’s got you living with her, cooking and cleaning for her…” He shook his head with a tragic expression.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “You’ve discovered my secret.” She hiked her bag further up on her shoulder and gave a wave. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to hit the barre. Have fun, boys.”

Bucky turned back to Steve with a grin and Steve was suddenly very aware it was just the two of them. “So, wanna get lunch?”

“Sure.”

Bucky nodded toward the street ahead. “How’s pizza?”

“Sounds perfect.” Steve was still struggling with dry mouth, despite the frantic urge to say something cool or smart or really just anything but awkward. They fell into step. “So…Bucky is a nickname for…James?”

Bucky laughed. “Buchanan, my middle name. James Buchanan Barnes, a pleasure to meet you.” He winked and Steve nearly tripped.

“Steven Grant Rogers, the pleasure is mine.” Steve hoped he wasn’t blushing.

“Nat’s the only one who won’t quit calling me James.”

“She does tend to get away with more than most.”

Bucky shook his head. “Ain’t that the truth. ”

Steve held the door open for Bucky, admiring the view. Those jeans were…fitted.

They settled into a booth and ordered a large pepperoni. “So tell me, what does Steve Rogers do in his free time besides paint and eat massive amounts of pizza?”

“Hey, you agreed on a large.” Steve thought over a bite of pizza. “Hmm…not a lot, actually? Even when I’m not working on school assignments, I’m usually drawing. And well, I mean, obviously I eat more than just pizza…”

“But you always eat massive amounts?”

“No—well, actually, I guess so… But I’d say ‘massive amounts’ is rather subjective…”

Bucky snickered. “So all you do is eat and draw, and yet you’re built like a Greek god? Wow, life is really unfair.”

Steve hid his blush behind the lip of his glass. “Well, I run every day and go to the gym some.”

“‘Some,’ he says.”

“And you’ve already discovered my weakness for stupid comedies.”

“Hey, Will Ferrell movies are not stupid. Okay, so they are. But it’s a good stupid.” Bucky smirked. “Good to know it’s the humor you’re into and not the Christmas. I was afraid you might just be a holiday fanatic.”

“As far as I’m concerned, Christmas music is year-round music.”

Bucky looked like he was struggling to hide a grimace.

“Kidding. I like holidays well enough, but it’s hard to be crazy about them when you don’t have family to celebrate with.”

“Oh…I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Steve said with a small smile. “I don’t remember my father, and my mother died when I was in high school. So holidays are pretty quiet for me. Well, they were until college, when I found the noisiest group of friends…”

“What is with Clint and theme parties?”

Steve laughed. “I’ve heard stories. I hope I’m invited to the Halloween party this year—Tony claims it’s going to be epic.”

“Oh, don’t give me that, I know you’ve been invited to parties before.” Bucky leaned back in his seat. “There’s no way Nat didn’t try to drag you along at least once.”

“Alright, alright.” Steve wound his straw wrapper around his finger. “I may have missed one or two due to work or school…”

“Steve. Come on. You can’t let responsibility get in the way of the most important part of college.”

“That being…theme parties?”

Bucky brought his fist down on the table. “Your social life, Steve.”

“Oh, right, of course, how could I have forgotten the most important part of college.” Steve shook his head. “I can’t help it. Usually what happens is a coworker comes up to me, says they’ve got this big party, so-and-so’s going to be there, pretty please can you cover for me, and I say yes every time.”

Bucky sighed dramatically. “Oh, Stevie. There’s a fine line between being a nice guy and being taken advantage of.”

Steve’s heart might’ve quickened a bit at the nickname. “I’ll go this time, I promise. That means I have to come up with a costume though, doesn’t it.”

“Yeah, and if anyone tries to get you to work, now you can tell _them_ that a certain so-and-so is going to be there, so you can’t miss it.” Bucky winked. For the sake of Steve’s heart, he really needed to stop doing that.

“So what’s your costume going to be, then?”

Bucky wilted. “Man, I don’t know. And I know Nat’s got something good planned, but she won’t fucking tell me.”

“Well, what were you last year?”

“Shirtless Vladimir Putin riding a horse.” Bucky slurped his drink.

Steve stared. “Shirtless…Vladimir Putin…” _Note to self, suggest another shirtless costume._

“Yep.”

“Riding a horse?”

Bucky shrugged. “Well, Clint was the horse.”

“Did you wear a mask?”

Bucky grinned. “Nah, I just yelled in Russian and made this face all night.” He leaned forward, pressing his lips into a thin line and giving Steve a dead-eyed stare.

Steve choked on his soda. When he could breathe again, he asked, “And Clint was the horse?”

“Yeah, had a rubber mask and everything. He couldn’t find a brown shirt, though, so he was shirtless too. I made him whinny in Russian all night.”

“And how do you whinny in Russian?”

“ _Ee-go-go_.”

Steve blinked. Well. That…sounded like a horse. He snorted. “I can’t believe you just whinnied in a pizza parlor.”

“ _Russian_ whinnied.”

“Oh, of course.”

“Russian horses are far superior to other horses. I obligated to say that as a Vladimir Putin Impersonator.”

Steve fought to keep a straight face. “And you rode…”

“Piggyback. All night.”

“Are there pictures of this?”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

Steve blew out his breath. “Well, you’ve just described my greatest fantasy.”

Bucky let out a bark of laughter. “Wow, I am so glad I could be of service.”

Steve smiled. “So why Russian? Can’t say I’ve met many Russian majors. Kinda thought Natasha was the only one.”

Bucky chuckled. “She makes it sound like she’s the only one.” He poked at the ice in his glass with his straw. “I had a Russian friend when I was growing up. An exchange student who lived with us for a couple years.” He gave a half shrug and smiled at Steve. “So I already knew some Russian when I started college. It seemed like the most obvious choice.” A server came by and refilled his glass without a word. “So tell me Steve, what masterpiece are you working on right now?”

“Ah, well, I’m kind of in between things at the moment…” Steve rubbed his chin. He had studio time tomorrow morning to finish the failure of a painting—if Ms. Moreau felt charitable and let him resubmit—but to be honest, she was right. His heart hadn’t been in it. He loved the landscape of his view of the city from his apartment window he’d finished last month, but there was nothing he’d lost himself in since then. He leaned forward, looking Bucky over with a thoughtful smile. “Were you serious when you offered to pose for me?”

Bucky blinked in surprise. “I mean…yeah, sure, anytime.”

“Tomorrow?”

Bucky grinned. “Yeah, I’m done with class by four.”

“Great, it’s a date, then.” Steve realized what he’d just said and really hoped the heat in his cheeks wasn’t visible.

“Yeah. It’s a date.”

God, that look was dangerous. _Relax,_ Steve told himself. _It’s just a casual drawing session. Basically just doing homework. Totally fine._

Sure.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your comments and kudos! I love them like Steve loves staring at Bucky's ass.
> 
> Thanks as always to [ink-dust](http://archiveofourown.org/users/inkdust) for beta-ing. Without you, I never would have had the mental image of shirtless, glowering Sebastian Stan on shirtless, horse-head-wearing Jeremy Renner's back. And my life would have been incomplete.
> 
> Also, legit, that is the sound a horse makes in Russia apparently. Research was done. _Ee-go-go_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bumping the rating up mostly because Bucky has a filthy mind, but also because WE ALL KNOW WHERE THIS IS GOING.

Bucky hummed to himself as he laid cheese between two slices of bread. “‘You better watch out…’” He threw it in the pan on the stove. “‘You better not cry…’” He grinned at the wall as he waited for the cheese to melt. Two classes down, one to go. After three o’clock Soviet Literature, he was going to Natasha and Steve’s place. And, if Bucky remembered right, Natasha would be in class all afternoon.

He jumped when the door swung open.

“—And only one fucking week to do it, that’s just unreasonable. I bet he doesn’t even look at the stupid citation page. Hey, Bucky.” Clint stopped long enough to grab a soda out of the fridge before flopping down on the couch.

Bucky grunted a hello, frowning at the counter to compose himself.

“These professors clearly don’t understand that we students have lives. I have an archery competition on Friday…” 

Bucky was never sure if Clint was talking to him, or to himself, or…something else entirely. He shoved the spatula under thesandwich and slammed it down in the pan. 

“Do you want a grilled cheese sandwich?” Bucky bit out in Clint’s direction.

Clint squinted at him. “…No, I’m fine.”

Bucky stomped over to the couch and tore into his lunch. He could feel Clint staring at him. He ignored him. His sandwich was gone before he had a chance to enjoy it. 

“You’re in a good mood.”

“The hell are you talking about?” He pointedly stood and stalked into the kitchen.  _Shit, he knows me too well._

“Did you get laid?”

Bucky dropped his plate but got miraculously lucky when it landed perfectly in the lower rack of the dishwasher. “What?! No! Not everyone has the sex life you do, Clint.” He pointed the scrub brush at Clint. “Speaking of, why the hell don’t you ever go to Nat’s place? It’s a palace!"

“We do go to Nat’s place.” He grinned. “And I know, right?”

“So where does she keep her treasure?”

“What?”

“Never mind. Anyway, it sure seems like you’re always here.” Bucky checked his book bag. Already packed. “I bet it’s because you break shit.” 

“Okay, that was _one_ time. And it was an ugly vase anyway.” Clint smirked. “Besides, she should know better than to keep anything breakable on any surfaces when I come over, because when I—” 

“Stop.” Bucky swung his bag on his shoulder and grabbed his keys. “I’m heading to class.”

Clint frowned. “You’re going to class early? What the hell? I’ve never seen you leave early for class early…” He raised an eyebrow. “Is your teacher hot?”

“What?” Bucky edged toward the door. “I mean, a little? I’ll see you later, man.” He left before Clint could ask any more obnoxious questions.

 

* * *

 

Natasha totally threw him under the bus in class. At the exact moment Ms. Petrov asked for a volunteer to give a summary of the assigned reading, she coughed and Ms. Petrov zoned directly in on them. And of course, called on Bucky. Because Natasha managed to slip out of any and all undesirable situations. Bucky won that game, though, because he could bullshit eloquently in both English and Russian. He threw Natasha a smug smile. She rolled her eyes.

Finally, _finally_ the hour was up and Bucky stood up too fast. He felt Natasha’s eyes on him.

“Well. I’m done for the day. I’m so glad I’m not a fucking overachieving double major stuck in class for the rest of the day.”

“I hate to tell you this, but you’ve overcompensated in the other direction."

Bucky walked a little too quickly in the direction of Steve’s.

He held his fist up to knock, then paused and ran his hand through his hair one more time. “This is ridiculous,” he mumbled. He was far too giddy for someone about to hold a probably awkward position for God knows how long. He blew out his breath and knocked.

The door swung open almost immediately. Bucky blinked in surprise, and then smiled. Steve was just as gorgeous as the last time Bucky had invaded this apartment, but unfortunately this time he was wearing a shirt. Bucky couldn’t complain too much, though. The shirt hugged his pecs, defined his abs, and somehow made his biceps look even more massive.

“Come on in. Did you come straight from class?” Steve led the way down into the living room where his easel was set up.

“Yeah, barely survived. Did you know they make you speak Russian in Russian class?”

“That’s just unreasonable.”

“Nah, I don’t really mind. The speaking part’s fun. It’s just homework I have a problem with.” Bucky dropped his bag next to the couch.

“Well, thanks again for helping me out with mine.”

“No problem. So where do you want me?” Bucky would be lying if he said the double entendre was entirely unintentional.

A faint blush tinted Steve’s cheeks. Beautiful. “Oh, uh, on the couch is fine. I’m just going to grab my charcoals, I’ll be right back.”

Steve disappeared down the hall, so Bucky pulled off his shirt. He wondered how regular models for art classes did it. Did they just strip in front of the whole class or did they change in private and drop a robe or something? _Maybe they’re all exhibitionists._ Bucky unbuttoned his jeans. _Maybe I’m an exhibitionist?_ Or maybe one way or another, he wanted to be naked in a room with Steve.

“OH! W-wait! Y-you don’t have to—!” Steve returned just as Bucky was unzipping, and now his face was bright red. Bucky would feel embarrassed himself, if he weren’t so distracted by how cute Steve was.

“Oh, you were going to draw me with my clothes on? My bad.” He leaned down to grab his shirt off the floor.

“Well…maybe just like that…is fine.” Steve didn’t seem to know where to look.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, glancing down at his unzipped jeans and back up at Steve. “Just like this?”

Steve’s face was still flushed, but Bucky saw something other than embarrassment there now. Something that made Bucky’s dick twitch with excitement. _Okay, probably a good thing I’m not naked. Did not think of that._ Bucky stretched out on the couch, hoping the lust wasn’t too obvious on his face.

Steve looked from his blank sketch pad to Bucky with a nod. “Yeah, that’s fine. Just tilt your hips toward me a little bit, yeah. And drape your left arm over your head—perfect.”

In seconds, blushing Steve transformed into focused artist Steve. Bucky lay still for a moment before speaking. “So how still do I have to be?”

Steve smirked. “Restless already? This is going to be rough.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Smart-ass. I just meant am I allowed to talk or not.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll tell you to shut up when I start on your face.” Steve winked.

As if being attractive as fuck wasn’t enough, he has to be a sarcastic little shit on top of it. Bucky was in so much trouble. “Well, that’s a relief, then.”

Steve’s smile was stunning. His tongue kept darting out to wet his lips as he concentrated. Bucky had jacked off twice preemptively in the shower, so he thought for sure he’d make it through this hard-on-free. If Steve kept this up, that might not be the case.

Bucky cleared his throat. “So did you think of a Halloween costume?”

“Nope, nothing yet.” Steve set down one pencil and picked up another. “What about you?”

“Still nada. Well, do you wanna do scary or funny?”

“Hmmm. Somewhere in between?”

“How about a clown?”

Steve paused his sketching to grimace at Bucky. “No, thanks.”

Bucky laughed. “That’s pretty firmly on the scary side of things, isn’t it?”

“At the very least, squarely in creepy territory.”

Steve gave Bucky a considering look. “You could do a good pirate, I bet.”

“Eh, already did that one a few years back. Still have a rough time with rum to this day.” Bucky winced at the memory. “I do look fantastic in black eyeliner, though.”

Steve laughed. “I’m sure. I don’t think I could pull off the pirate look.”

Bucky smirked. “Yeah, you seem more sailor than pirate.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “And suffer through seaman jokes all night? I’ll pass.”

Bucky snorted. “I swear, that barely even crossed my mind.”

“How about a classic? Like a ghost or something.”

“Have you tried drinking beer through a hole in a sheet?”

“Sounds like you have.”

“It ain’t easy. But you might be onto something with the classics. How about…vampire?” And then he could sink his fangs into Bucky’s neck, or anywhere else he wanted. Bucky suppressed a shiver.

“Hmm, I could. You could be a werewolf?”

Bucky narrowly resisted throwing out something about making him howl all night. “Yeah, werewolves are cool, but masks get hot and stuffy.”

“Alright, I’m doing your face, so shut up for a minute.”

Bucky smirked but kept quiet. Steve’s brow furrowed, the only sound in the room charcoal scratching across paper. Suddenly Bucky was picturing that face concentrating on other things, sweat dripping down his creased forehead, lips parting for air—Bucky swallowed and did a hard mental U-turn. He could feel Steve’s eyes on him as he lay there shirtless, pants undone. Pinned down by Steve’s gaze. _Keep it together, Barnes._ Bucky felt his face warm. He could live with blushing as long as he didn’t fucking pop a boner while Steve was staring at him with those fucking gorgeous eyes. 

“Alright.” Steve smiled at him. “You can talk again.”

Sure, maybe if his tongue hadn’t swollen up and all moisture in his mouth abandoned him. Bucky cleared his throat. “Cowboy.” Insert all of the “ride me” jokes. He wondered where that horse head mask had gotten to.

Steve tilted his head, considering. “That’s an idea. Or how about Indiana Jones?”

With a whip? Abso-fucking-lutely. “Oh, you’d make a great Indiana Jones.”

Steve blushed a bit. “Nah, I think you’d be a better one.”

 _I mean, sure, I can have the whip. Either way is fine with me._ Bucky was running out of ideas that weren’t “please just take your clothes off right now.” “How about a superhero?”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know how I feel about wearing spandex.”

“I think you could pull it off.” And then Bucky would pull it off.

Chuckling, Steve gave Bucky a look that sent a shiver all the way down his spine. “Glad you think so.” He studied his drawing. “I’m about finished. I guess I was wrong about you being able to sit still.”

Part of Bucky was disappointed it was over, but the other part was really fucking relieved, because at this point suppressing an erection was just delaying the inevitable. Actually, it wasn’t even totally suppressed at this point. And his pants were unzipped. Yep, time to go. “Do I get to see?”

Steve looked at the easel with a thoughtful smile. “I don’t know, maybe I should make you wait for the finished product.” He set down his charcoal. “You are free to move.”

Bucky sat up carefully, just to make sure nothing…popped out. “Aw, come on, Steve. I behaved so well, I totally deserve a reward, don’t you think?” _Oh my god, what did I just say. I meant the drawing. I swear._

Steve gave the barest lick of his lips. “Well, I guess I can let you have a peek.”

Bucky stood, holding his breath as he zipped his fly and buttoned his pants. He glanced up to see Steve…watching him. _Oh, fuck._ He turned away with a sharp exhale and picked up his shirt. _Grandmothers and nuns, grandmothers and nuns._ He counted three Mississippi’s and faced Steve.

When he got behind the easel, all he could do was stare. “Steve…shit, that’s…that’s amazing.” Steve had made him look…good. Really good. And Steve said this wasn’t the final product? Was he crazy? You could see the glint of the light from the window off his arm. And the look on his face… Shit. Bucky’s heart pounded. Maybe he hadn’t been hiding his thoughts as well as he’d hoped. “You could’ve mentioned you were a fucking prodigy.”

Steve had a bashful look on his face. “Oh, come on. Thanks, though. You were a great model.”

“Yeah, it takes a lot of talent to lay on a couch for an hour. What can I say?”

“Maybe you should go professional.”

“God, if I can make a living lying on couches, I am definitely in the wrong major.”

Steve laughed, then glanced at the enormous clock above the couch and sighed. “Well, you probably have depressing novels to read and painfully long essays to write, huh?”

“Whoa, did you used to be a Russian major? Because that way too accurately describes my life right now.”

They both seemed to drag their feet as Steve walked Bucky to the door. But it was probably for the best. If Bucky stayed much longer, he would end up jumping Steve.

Bucky hesitated at the open door, aware of Steve just inches away. Those blue eyes.

Steve bit his lip. “This…was really fun.” His voice was breathy. “Thanks.”

Bucky swallowed. He could feel his body leaning toward Steve’s, like gravity had shifted and he was falling. Time slowed to a stop, and Bucky forgot to breathe.

“Yeah.” Bucky took a breath and stepped out the door, turning back to grin at Steve. “We should do this again.”

“Definitely.” With another one of those killer smiles, Steve shut the door.

Bucky didn’t stop until he got to the elevator. When the doors shut, he leaned his forehead against the metal and groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The grilled cheese is another [Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail](http://archiveofourown.org/series/195689) reference.
> 
> Beta'd as usual by [inkdust](http://archiveofourown.org/users/inkdust/pseuds/inkdust), I'm sorry, I'll never write "towards" again, please don't pour any more beverages on me.
> 
> (That's a lie, I will definitely write towards again.)
> 
> Next up: HALLOWEEN PARTY! Can you guess everyone's costumes???
> 
> I am on [tumblr!](http://l0g0philewrites.tumblr.com) Also twitter as @l0g0phile.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, THE HALLOWEEN PARTY. 
> 
> As always, thanks to [inkdust.](http://archiveofourown.org/users/inkdust/pseuds/inkdust) This beast of a chapter definitely would have killed me without her. She gave me so many clever lines and caught so many stupid mistakes. If you're an Agent Carter fan and haven't read her work yet, go do it. 
> 
> Thank you times a million for your kudos and comments. They sustain me.
> 
> Happy Halloween!

Steve tugged at the bottom of his shirt. It fit, but only just. “Natasha, are you sure—”

“Yes, Steve,” she answered from her bathroom, where she was finishing her makeup.

“It’s just, this is really tight…” He frowned at his reflection in the full-length mirror. This was not a cop costume. This was a stripper cop costume. And if Steve flexed, it might tear away just as effectively.

“You look great. I promise.”

“I’ve never seen a cop uniform without sleeves before. I’m just saying.”

“Accuracy isn’t exactly the goal here, you know.” She appeared in the mirror next to him, and he jumped when he saw her face.

“Holy crap, Nat.” She had apparently finished her “spider queen” makeup, because it looked like one spider was crawling into her eye and a second one into her mouth. “You look terrifying.”

She smirked at her reflection, putting a hand on her hip. “Terrifyingly hot, right?” She was wearing a long, slinky black gown with a deep plunging neckline and a silver spiderweb design on one hip.

“Absolutely.”

“Oh, I almost forgot.” She rummaged around in her bedside drawer and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

Steve made a face. “Ugh, Nat…”

She rolled her eyes. “Relax. This is a new pair, I promise.” She hooked them on his belt and stood back to admire the full picture. “Perfect.”

Steve frowned at the weight on his hip. He picked up one cuff. They were the hinged kind, not the type usually seen in costume shops. “Nat, are these real…?”

Natasha just gave him a look that probably said, _Do you really think I would get fake anything, Steve?_ She patted his chest. “Just don’t forget, the key is in this pocket. Any situation you end up in with those is not one you want to call a locksmith for.”

Before Steve could sputter a response, Natasha’s phone rang. “Hello?” She grabbed her clutch and flipped off the lights as she left the bedroom, leaving Steve in the dark. “Okay, we’re coming down now. Bye.”

Steve sighed and followed her.

“Quit dawdling, Jessica’s waiting.”

They met a woman with black hair and a leather jacket smoking outside the building. “Hey.”

“Hey, Jess. This is Steve, my roommate.”

“Nice to meet you, Jessica.” He smiled.

She quirked an eyebrow. “Nice handcuffs.”

Steve refused to blush. “So, uh, what’s your costume?”

“Nudist on strike.”

“Clever.”

In the subway car, Steve shifted his weight from one foot to the other, staring fixedly at an ad for cologne on the wall. Apparently they weren’t the only ones going out for Halloween, because the train was packed. The girls had somehow managed to get seats, but Steve always felt bad taking a seat if it was crowded. Unfortunately, this put him directly in front of a woman in her eighties who hadn’t taken her eyes off him since they got on. He wasn’t even sure she’d blinked. He was afraid to make eye contact long enough to find out.

“Mmmmmm.”

Steve froze, eyes dragging slowly down to the source of the noise. Yep. The elderly woman was now rubbing her gums together as she stared, a frightfully devious spark in her eyes. When she caught his gaze, she lit up.

“I’ve been a bad, bad girl, Officer.” She gave him a toothless grin.

Steve shuddered. He heard a snort and caught both Natasha and Jessica with hands over their mouths to contain their laughter. He shot them a stern look and went back to staring hard at the poster in front of him. Finally, _finally,_ they reached their stop.

Just as Steve moved to be ready when the doors opened, the old woman spoke up again. “Stay here with me, sonny boy, and blue lights won’t be the only thing flashing.” She winked at him.

Steve had never exited a train faster.

“Are you sure you want to come with us, Steve?” Jessica grinned at Natasha, who snickered.

“Yeah”—Natasha elbowed him—“if you get back on the train, I’m pretty sure you’re guaranteed to get some tonight.”

“I hate you both.”

 

* * *

 

The door of Tony Stark’s penthouse opened to reveal Sam in a _Top Gun_ flight suit.

“Steve, my man! You came!” He peered around Steve’s shoulders and brightened. “Oh, Natasha and lady friend! Welcome! Get out of the way and let the ladies in, Steve. You’re being rude. 

Steve rolled his eyes. Inside, he paused to take in the chaos of the largest apartment he’d ever seen in New York City. There were people everywhere—on the kitchen table, standing on a sofa, everyone from Jedi to banana suits. The party poured out the open doors onto the balcony, Halloween music mixing with laughter and tipsy conversation.

“Come on, guys! Say it!”

Steve turned toward Sam’s voice. Natasha had that look on her face where she was amused but not about to give in.

“Steve!” Sam’s attention latched onto him. “You’ll do it. ‘I feel the need…’” He gave Steve an expectant grin.

Steve pulled his eyebrows together in confusion. “The need for what, Sam?”

Sam wilted, unamused. “Oh, come on. I feel the need…”

Steve sighed. “…The need for speed.”

“Yessss!”

“It is a great costume, Sam.”

“You guys’ costumes are great, too! But Jessica…what’re you supposed to be?”

“Undercover cop.”

Steve frowned at Natasha in confusion. She smirked. Right. Jessica was Natasha’s friend. Of course she enjoyed messing with people.

Jessica peered around Sam and raised an eyebrow at whatever she spotted behind him. “Well, have fun, guys. I’m off to uh…investigate.” The three of them watched as she sauntered over to the bar and managed to convince the tall, dark, and built Superman behind the counter into giving her an entire bottle of Jack.

“She’s fun,” Sam declared.

“Right? Smart, too.” Natasha headed in the same direction.

“She better be bringing some back. Also, _damn._ She does do the scary sexy thing well, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, yes she does.” Steve glanced around the room distractedly. “So? Is he here?”

Sam blinked, then grinned. “Is who here?” If he was trying to look innocent, he was failing.

Steve glared at him. “Sam. Don’t play dumb after you pried it out of me the other day.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Oh, whatever, man. You’re telling me you didn’t plan this?” He gestured at Steve’s general person.

Steve looked down at his still-way-too-tight uniform. “I mean, yeah, I picked it out, I guess, but Natasha was the one who bought a size too small. She says it’s the right size, but hell if I believe that.”

“No, not that. I mean—” Sam stopped, his gaze landing on someone else. Steve followed his line of sight, and his breath hitched.

“Well, hello there, Officer.” Bucky was wearing tight—really tight—black pants and a black and white striped shirt that had been slashed through to reveal a tantalizing amount of skin. On anyone else, the black makeup smeared across his face like a bandit mask would look more like a raccoon costume, but on Bucky it emphasized the dangerous look in his eyes. A look that made Steve want to do bad, bad things. But that metal arm could probably pack quite the punch.

He suddenly realized he’d been staring for far longer than socially acceptable. “You’re a robber!” Steve managed to sputter out. They couldn’t have looked better together if they’d planned it.

“I _know!_ ” Bucky grinned. “What are the chances, right? Talk about a coincidence!”

“Downright serendipitous,” Sam mumbled, squinting at Bucky.

“Anyway.” Bucky angled himself toward Steve, blocking Sam. “I’m actually a robber that has just escaped from jail. Just to clarify.”

“I thought maybe you were a robber that had just escaped from a box cutter factory,” Sam said from behind him.

“A felon on the run, huh?” Steve suppressed the flutter in his stomach.

“Don’t arrest me, Officer.” Bucky winked. Steve swallowed. _Yep. Bad things. Bad, bad things._

“Well, look who you found, Steve.” Natasha brought a cocktail and two beers and Clint tagging along behind. Of course he was Robin Hood. She held out the beer for Steve and Sam, but Bucky nabbed one before Sam could.

“What the hell, man.”

“Oh, thanks Nat!” Bucky took a swig. “But did you forget your costume?”

“Funny, James.” She looked between the two of them and smirked. “A cop and a robber, huh? Cute.” Her gaze lingered on Bucky.

“Welcome to my party, all!” Clint inserted himself into the circle and stretched his arms out in greeting, sloshing whatever was in his cup onto Bucky.

“The hell, Barton! That’s cold!” Bucky pulled his shirt up, revealing the expanse of his cut abs. _Holy shit._ Steve’s pants were way too tight for this to be safe.

“You’re drooling,” Natasha whispered in his ear. Steve clamped his mouth shut.

“Man, if you stained my shirt…” Bucky grabbed a handful of napkins and wiped the liquor dripping down his stomach. Steve was staring. Steve couldn’t not stare.

“Yeah…because it’s in such pristine condition.” Sam was somehow immune to the abs.

Bucky, apparently still unsatisfied, pulled his shirt off altogether. Steve barely held back a whimper. _This is so not fair._

“I’m gonna wash this out. Don’t drink my beer, Wilson.” Steve watched him disappear down the hall, the way the muscles of his back moved as he walked, his shirt draped casually over one shoulder. The way his pants sat low on his hips.

“ _Your_ party? Oh, is this your party? Wow, really nice place you’ve got here!” Tony Stark was suddenly there, in the circle that had grown and migrated toward a table with a bowl of black punch. Tony’s costume was a Transformer, though which one Steve wasn’t sure—but he was pretty sure the flashy blue and red armor was actually made of metal. Was this what Tony Stark did in his free time? Soldered armor in his dad’s penthouse?

“Oh, hey, Tony.” Clint slurped down the rest of his drink unrepentantly.

“Nice costume, Optimus Prime.”

“Thanks, Maverick. So tell me, Robin Hood, how the hell is this your party?”

“I came up with the theme.”

“This is a _Halloween party_. The theme is _Halloween._ Are you saying you invented Halloween?”

“Well—”

“Time for shots!” Tony whipped out two bottles from…somewhere in his metal costume and held them aloft, vodka in one hand and tequila in the other.

“Are those…liquor holsters?” Steve really shouldn’t be surprised at this point.

“I can totally make you a set if you want, Officer.”

Steve frowned. It was one thing when Bucky called him “officer.”

“Fits wine bottles too,” Tony went on. “And it’s adjustable for beer bottles. Four of ‘em. Never go to a party without it! Damn, I need a catchy name and I could totally market this shit.”

“Stark Liquor Pants,” Clint offered.

“That…sounds like something that could get me arrested.”

“Hooch Holsters.”

Steve’s heart absolutely did not skip a beat. Bucky’s shirt was back on (unfortunately) but the wet patches stuck to his skin, the white stripes transparent.

“Oh look, it’s everyone’s favorite cyborg.” _Did Stark really just—?_ Steve glanced back at Bucky. If Stark was about to get punched, he wouldn’t stop it.

Bucky pointed at Tony. “If you go with Hooch Holsters, I want forty percent of the profits.”

“Five percent.”

“Ten.”

“Done.” Tony reached across the circle to shake on it.

“I still like Stark Liquor Pants.”

“Clint. Stop saying Liquor Pants.” Natasha shook the ice at the bottom of her glass.

“How about Liq- _your_ Pants.”

She gave him a Look.

“I’m sorry.”

Tony waved his bottles in the air again, sidling into the middle of the circle. “Helloooo, shots?” He tilted his hip toward Sam. “There’s plastic shot glasses in there, if you could just—“

“Dude, I am _not_ reaching into your Hooch Holster.”

“It’s catching on!” Bucky raised his shot glass. Steve noticed he and Bucky both chose vodka.

“So how do you two know each other?” Steve looked between Bucky and Tony.

“He was one of my dad’s test subjects.”

Steve did a double-take, and Bucky smirked. “Yeah, I fared far better than the others. I only lost an arm.”

“Funny, Barnes. Real funny. Listen, if you cause PR problems, sales of the Hooch Holster will never take off. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go be a good host. What with this being _my_ party and all.” They watched him veer in the direction of a red-headed Audrey Hepburn.

Clint sniffed. “I let him think it’s his party.”

Someone retrieved more drinks from the bar, and Clint started telling physics jokes, which was about the time Natasha walked away.

“Y’know how some female spiders bite the heads off the males after mating? I’m starting to understand those guys. Maybe they think it’s worth it.” Clint grinned at the rest of them before heading off after her.

“So…are they exclusive, or what? Just curious.” Sam watched Clint try to sneak up on Natasha at the bar. She turned and looked right at him before he even made it halfway.

Steve shrugged. “I’ve never seen them with anyone else.”

“Me neither. And I think I would’ve known as far as Clint goes, anyway. He’s not exactly subtle.”

“And it’s been what, two months?”

“No, three. But for the first month they only came to our place.” Bucky grimaced. “It was horrible.”

Steve chuckled. “All Natasha’s ever said is, ‘I’m not bored of him yet.’ Which is a pretty high compliment for her, I think.”

“According to Clint, ‘Anytime spent not fucking Natasha is time that could be spent fucking Natasha.’ So yeah, I’m gonna say exclusive.”

“Huh. Well, whatever works for them, I guess.” Sam shrugged.

Steve glanced at Bucky. Despite the ordeal, it seemed like it was working for Steve too.

 

* * *

 

“Looks like you’re empty, that’s no good.” Bucky leaned over to look in Steve’s cup. “Too bad we don’t have a Hooch Holster.”

“Don’t say that too loudly, Tony will come back.” Steve finally had Bucky to himself, after Sam left to talk to a Catwoman on the balcony. He eyed the punch bowl beside them. “Is there a reason no one has tried this yet?”

Bucky scooped up a ladleful of black liquid. There appeared to be ice eyeballs floating on the surface. “Maybe because typically if you drink something this color, you have to have your stomach pumped?” He filled two glasses. “Should we go for it?”

“I’m in if you’re in.” Steve had a feeling Bucky could probably talk him into doing just about anything.

“To upholding the law.”

"To fraternizing with criminals." Steve clinked his plastic cup against Bucky’s. The first taste was shockingly delicious, black cherry and ginger ale. Then it was like a slap in the face with a follow-up punch to the gut. Steve gave a full-body shudder. “What the hell is in this?”

Bucky was staring at his cup like he couldn’t decide whether to be offended or impressed. “I think Tony called it ‘Satan’s Juice.’”

“Ugh.” Steve looked at the punch bowl, then at Bucky. “Refill?”

Bucky held out his glass with a grin.

 

* * *

 

A pink power ranger and a Tin Man strolled past. “So, does that mean you don’t have a heart?” the power ranger asked.

The Tin Man stopped dead. “This was a _terrible_ costume idea, Tony!”

“You look great, Rhodey!” Tony yelled back from wherever he was. Apparently he could always hear someone talking about him.

“Steve.” Wanda approached them in Gryffindor robes, her hair curled and frizzy.

“You look great, Wanda!” Steve hadn’t realized she would be here.

“ _Accio_.” She pointed her wand at the punch bowl and looked expectantly at Bucky.

“Oh, is this… Did you want—?” Bucky looked between her and the bowl for a moment, then served her a cup.

She took it happily. “Is this your boyfriend, Steve?”

 _Oh my god._ Steve felt his face heat up instantly and did his best not to look at Bucky. “Th-this is, uh, Bucky, Clint’s roommate. Y’know, Natasha’s Clint. My roommate Natasha. Her Clint. I mean, her boyfriend. Er, fuck buddy.” _Smooth._

“Ah. Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

After Wanda wandered off, Bucky leaned against the table, his eyes roaming down Steve’s body and back up again. “Boyfriend, huh? I guess we look good together.”

Steve bit his lip. _It’s too much—he is too much._ “You’ve certainly got the looking good part down.”

“Hmm, same to you, Officer.” Bucky stood up from the table, and Steve was suddenly aware of how close they were to each other.

Steve jumped when Tony popped up out of nowhere. “Hey, you know what goes great with Satan’s Juice? Shots. Hey, get over here, Bruce, we’re doing shots and I know you haven’t done one yet, and that is unacceptable. You want to make me look bad? Come do a shot.”

Tony slung his arm around a guy in a green toga, shoving a shot glass in his hand. “Good man. Now, cops and robbers is cute, but let me present to you the best costume here. Aside from mine, obviously. Do it, Brucie.”

Bruce held up a can of green beans with a heavy sigh. “Jolly Green Giant.”

“You don’t look very jolly,” Steve said, and Tony cackled.

“Lost a bet?” Bucky asked.

Bruce the not-so-Jolly Green Giant nodded and took his shot without waiting for the rest of them.

“Well, that is what you get for making a bet with Tony Stark.”

 

* * *

 

After an unholy amount of Satan’s Juice, Steve was really starting to feel it. He found himself leaning on Bucky. _He so pretty. How is he so pretty._  

“You ain’t so bad yourself, Stevie.” Bucky’s eyes were on his lips, and Steve suddenly realized he’d said that out loud. _Oops_.

“Bucky! I challenge you!” Clint pointed a finger in Bucky’s face. “You and Steve versus me and Natasha!”

The pool table in the center of the room had been converted for beer pong, and it seemed there was a tournament going on. Steve spotted Peggy dressed as Carmen San Diego high-fiving her ‘40s gangster boyfriend. The losing team seemed to be having some issues, as another ‘40s gangster yelled at a girl made up like a creepy broken doll. She looked totally unfazed.

Bucky nudged Steve, shoulder pressed against his own. “Whaddya say, Stevie?”

“What do you think?” Steve grinned. “You’re on, Barton.”

“Oh, you guys just signed your death certificates. I have impeccable aim.” Clint stumbled on the word “impeccable” but whipped out a suction cup arrow and nocked it, shooting at a ceiling fan with speed and precision. It stuck.

“Show-off.”

All four of them were competitive, and the longer the game went on, the more intense it became. Each victory for Steve and Bucky’s team meant a high-five, a hand on the back, a hug, a squeeze to the shoulder. Which were even better incentives than Clint and Natasha’s reactions.

“Barton, I swear. You better not miss,” Natasha mumbled. Natasha _hated_ losing.

He missed. Natasha cursed and downed the beer, crushing the cup in her hand.

“Dammit, this is Tony’s fault! That damn Hooch Holster!”

“Don’t you talk bad about the Hooch Holster just because you’re a sore loser, Clint.” Bucky slung his arm gleefully around Steve’s neck. Steve’s heart was beating far too fast—running on alcohol, adrenaline, and Bucky’s touch.

“You haven’t won yet, asshole.” Natasha pointed her finger at each of them, her eyes narrowed.

They tied in the end, bringing the game into a sudden death round. They’d drawn quite the crowd at this point. But even sudden death ended without a clear winner, and beer pong devolved into arm wrestling.

“I’ll take anybody on!” Bucky flexed his arms, eyeballing Clint.

“You can’t fucking use the metal arm, ass!”

 

* * *

 

Clint kept asking for volunteers to put an apple on their head for him to shoot. Thor, dressed as Zeus, was the only taker. The Hooch Holster made another unfortunate appearance, so despite it being a terrible idea, Steve, Bucky, and anyone else within arm’s reach of Tony did another shot. 

Standing was becoming too much effort, so Steve and Bucky found a wall to lean against, their shoulders brushing when Bucky swiped Steve’s hat. It looked fucking great on him.

“Isn’t impersonating an officer against the law?”

“What does that say about you then, huh?”

“Oh, I guess you’re right…” Steve’s giggle set Bucky off as well.

 

* * *

 

Steve spotted Natasha and nudged Bucky. She was approaching Clint like a panther stalking its prey. 

In the middle of instructing someone to toss up a bottle for him shoot out of the air, Clint did a double-take.

“Clint.”

He dropped his arrow. “Uh, I gotta—I gotta go, guys. Sorry! Bye! Happy Halloween, everybody!” Clint barreled after Natasha, who had started for the door without a look back. “Hope you enjoyed my party!”

“ _Not_ your party!” Tony’s voice rose over the noise.

 

* * *

 

In the periphery, Steve was aware of dancing, an increase in volume of music and laughter. Someone in the background yelled “ow!” and Steve noticed the arrow Clint had shot was no longer stuck to the fan. 

“Aren’tcha glad you decided to show this year?”

Steve refocused on Bucky. He could only really focus on Bucky. “Well, if I’da known you’d be here, I would’a come sooner.” He stole his hat back, running his fingers through Bucky’s long hair to fix it. He caught Bucky’s intake of breath, and their eyes locked.

Bucky opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, a body fell into them.

It was the ‘40s gangster who had lost to Peggy in the beer pong match. He was missing his shirt and coat but had managed to keep his tie and fedora. He grinned up at Bucky and Steve and righted himself. “Sorry, fellas.” He clapped them both on the back and rejoined the chaos around them.

“Uh…” Bucky frowned at Steve. “Maybe we should go somewhere…quieter.”

“With less falling bodies.”

Bucky led the way down the hall, and Steve unabashedly watched his ass as they walked. Bucky opened one door and quickly closed it with an apology. And another. When Bucky found one he deemed satisfactory, Steve followed him in, closing the door behind them.

“Wait, is this a greenhouse?” He turned to face Bucky and instantly his back was against the wall and lips were on his.

Steve gasped into Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky took advantage, his tongue slipping past Steve’s lips. Steve’s hands went to Bucky’s hair, fisting his fingers in it like he’d wanted to do for longer than he’d realized. Bucky groaned and pulled him closer, his flesh hand cupping Steve’s jaw, his metal hand sliding down Steve’s back to grab his ass. Steve moaned, flipping them and pushing Bucky up onto a table.

“Fuck, Steve.” Bucky’s hands roamed Steve’s body like he didn’t know what he wanted to touch, to grab, to feel first. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

Steve slid his hands under Bucky’s ruined shirt, sighing at the feeling of hot skin under his hands. “I have an idea.” He kissed his way along Bucky’s jawline and down to his neck, sinking his teeth in, and Bucky let out the most incredible sound. He felt Bucky fumbling with his shirt, but he only broke away from the spot he was sucking when Bucky made a noise of frustration. Between the two of them, they managed to get rid of Steve’s shirt. Bucky’s mouth was instantly on his nipple, and Steve cried out. “God, Buck…”

Everything was hands and mouths and skin and then Steve was on top of the table too, on top of Bucky, grinding against him. They both moaned, kissing roughly and hungrily. Steve pulled away to finally lick the nipple that had been peeking out of Bucky’s shirt, teasing him all night. Bucky cursed under his breath, his hands threading through Steve’s hair. Steve tugged with his teeth and Bucky whined. _He’s too fucking incredible. I’m gonna die._

There was a crash, and they broke apart, responses delayed a bit more than they should’ve been. Steve leaned over the table’s edge to see a terra-cotta pot had met its death, dirt and plant everywhere. He looked back at Bucky, taking in the flush of his cheeks and his red, swollen lips. “Who has a greenhouse, anyway?”

“Howard Stark, apparently.” Bucky pulled Steve back down to him. He rolled them over and they ended up standing again, Steve’s back hitting another table, Bucky’s arms on either side. Bucky tugged on Steve’s lower lip, pressing forward, trapping him against the table. Steve ran his hands down Bucky’s back, getting a handful of ass.

Bucky drew back, holding up a flower in his dirt-covered hand, and grinned. “I got you a flower."

Steve snorted. “You’re drunk. C’mere.” He pulled Bucky close once more, giggling against his lips. _What a dork. God, he’s adorable._

The room was swimming but it didn’t matter, because everything he could see, taste, smell, was Bucky. All that mattered was that he could keep kissing Bucky, that his hands could keep touching Bucky, that Bucky’s hands didn’t stop touching him.

Halloween was a fucking miracle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A list of cameos and their costumes, in order of appearance: 
> 
> Jessica Jones - Nudist on strike/undercover cop. Other answers she gave throughout the night include celebrity in disguise, hipster, and muggle.
> 
> Luke Cage - Superman
> 
> Pepper Potts - Audrey Hepburn
> 
> Karen Page - Catwoman
> 
> Maria Hill - Pink Power Ranger
> 
> James Rhodes - Tin Man (sidenote: I briefly forgot his full name and my first best guess was Rhodey Rhodes)
> 
> Bruce Banner - Jolly Green Giant
> 
> Peggy Carter - Carmen San Diego
> 
> Daniel Sousa - 40s gangster (heavily pressured into by Jack)
> 
> Jack Thompson - 40s gangster (P.S. I love you Jack)
> 
> Dottie Underwood - Creepy broken doll
> 
> Thor Odinson - Zeus
> 
> In case anyone was wondering, of course Matt and Foggy were also at the party despite the lack of mention. I did not think of good costumes for them, so if anyone has a thought as to what they'd be, I'd love to hear your ideas!
> 
> Come talk to me on [tumblr](http://l0g0philewrites.tumblr.com/)!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought about pretending it's only been a day since the last chapter, rather than a year and a day, but... Well, thank you for being patient. Life happened more intensely than I expected over this past year, but I am back and I promise it won't be another year before chapter 6. 
> 
> As always, thank you inkdust, without you it would've been like, five years before I spit this thing out.

It was the pulsing in his head that woke him. Bucky groaned, clenching his eyes shut. Experience taught him that the headache only got worse after you opened your eyes. At least he’d managed to pass out somewhere soft. And warm. And…moving slowly up and down.

Bucky opened his eyes. 

Bucky closed his eyes. He had fallen asleep on top of Steve. Again. Except this time Steve was shirtless. And Bucky had definitely drooled all over Steve’s left pec. 

_Maybe I can just go back to sleep. Forever._

That plan was pretty quickly crushed when he felt Steve shift underneath him. And wow, yep, approximately ninety percent of Bucky’s body was on top of Steve’s. His heart thumped in his chest as the night before flashed through his mind. The memory of Steve’s moan and the heady look in his eyes. _Fuck. Best night ever._

But he should probably give the guy room to breathe. With a groan, Bucky did a sort of crooked push up, one hand on the soft…felt? of whatever they were lying on. The metal hand was clasped in Steve’s.

Steve was unfairly attractive after a night of excess. There was a dark purple mark on his neck, just high enough that it would be very, very difficult to hide. A smattering of fainter bite marks trailed down to Steve’s nipples. _Nice._

“Hey.”

Bucky looked up from Steve’s chest and grinned. “Hey.”

“Listen. I just want you to know. I didn’t do this.”

Bucky frowned. “Do what? Also, are we on the pool table?” He shifted to get a better look around and heard the clank of metal on metal.

Clank? He sat up fully and lifted his left arm. Steve’s right arm came with it.

Bucky looked back at Steve. “Wow, I am _really_ upset I don’t remember the handcuffs part of last night.”

Steve jolted upright, his face turning the color of a tomato. “No, it’s not—we didn’t—like I said, I didn’t do this. We were already like this when I woke up.”

“Huh.” Bucky was equal parts disappointed and relieved. He wanted to fuck Steve, bad, but he also wanted to remember it. “Not that I don’t like keeping you close, but maybe you could free us, Officer?” More for Steve’s sake than his own—his metal knuckles probably felt cold.

The fading blush surged back full force. “About that…” Steve rubbed the back of his head with his unchained hand. “The key is in my shirt.”

“So?” Bucky glanced down at Steve’s beautiful naked chest. “Oh. Right.” Bucky slid off the pool table, boots hitting the floor and sending a shock wave up to his skull. “Tony’s gonna kill us for scratching the felt.” He rubbed at a gouge that had fallen victim to either a boot or metal arm. “Do you remember how we got on the pool table?”

Steve shook his head. “Last I remember we were in the greenhouse…” He was blushing again.

Bucky smirked. “Yeah, same.” Most fun Bucky had ever had in a greenhouse, hands down. But he couldn’t quite tell if Steve felt the same. What if Steve was just an amorous drunk? Was that embarrassed blush a sign of regret?

“This way, I think?” Steve led him by the handcuff down the hall toward the greenhouse.

Bucky whistled at the scene of the crime. The place was a wreck.

“Jeez, look how many plants you murdered, Buck.”

Bucky’s stomach did a little non-hangover-related flip at the nickname. “Ah, excuse me, sir, I believe I had a little help.”

Steve lifted a purple flower from a pile of dirt on the ground, pulling Bucky partway down with him. “Look at this poor Bearded Iris.” Steve shook the battered flower at him. “Look.”

Bucky fought to keep a straight face. “Steve, stop, don’t make me laugh, it hurts.”

Steve dropped the iris. “I distinctly remember having my shirt on when I came in here.” He started peering around the plants.

Bucky tugged Steve by the wrist toward a table. “I think I tore it off you over here.”

Between their hangovers and the fact they had no idea how many of these plants might be poisonous—or carnivorous—(it was a Stark greenhouse after all) the search was way more difficult than it should’ve been.

“Oops—” Bucky accidentally yanked on the cuffs for the fourth time. “Sorry.” His brain refused to put forth any sort of effort to remember that Steve felt more than Bucky’s dull pressure sensor.

“It’s fine. Did we check over by the Bromeliads?”

Bucky stared. “Okay. What’s with the secret botany knowledge?”

Steve shrugged. “There’s only so many times you can draw a daisy. Bromeliads? That way?” He pointed with the left hand. In fact, he had hardly moved his right hand at all.

“Hold on.” Bucky frowned down at the cuffs, lifting their hands to get a closer look. The skin on Steve’s wrist was red and angry where the cuff dug in, clearly fastened far too tight. “Steve, what the hell?” Bucky gently probed with his thumb and caught Steve covering a wince. “Why didn’t you say something?”

Steve looked away guiltily. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Steve.” Bucky rotated his wrist despite the hideous scraping noise so he could take Steve’s hand in his. Steve looked at him in surprise. “Hold my hand so you won’t keep hurting yourself, dammit. And, uh, sorry if it’s cold.”

Steve gave him one of those smiles that made Bucky feel like a fourteen year old girl. “Thanks.”

“Right. Uh.” He looked away. “Brom-whatevers.”

* * *

“Shit.”

“It’s not here.”

“And my head is killing me.” Bucky dragged Steve back to the nearest bathroom and pawed through the medicine cabinet for painkillers. “Thank you, Tony.” He twisted the cap off and shook a few pills into his mouth. “You want some?”

“Did you just open a childproof bottle with one hand?”

“I’ve got all kinds of skills.” Bucky winked but Steve was frowning. _Uh-oh, did he spot the hickey?_ Except he wasn’t looking in the mirror. _Wait, do I have a hickey?_ Bucky glanced at his reflection.

“We’re not going to find the shirt, are we?”

Oh. “We can look around the greenhouse one more time if you want, but I could really use some water and coffee before round two.”

“There’s another problem.”

“What?” Bucky watched warily as Steve avoided his eyes.

“I have to pee.”

“Oh.” Bucky cleared his throat. “Yeah, me too, good idea.” _This isn’t going to be awkward at all._

Bucky studiously examined the ceiling as he heard the lid of the toilet hit the tank. _No big deal, just holding hands while peeing. Can’t say I’ve done that before._ He turned his back as much as he could, which wasn’t much. A few long seconds passed in silence.

“Um, I need some help…”

Bucky whipped his head around to gape at Steve. “What?!”

“With my belt! My belt!” Steve’s face was probably the reddest he’d ever seen it. “I can’t get the buckle with one hand, and the zipper is really tiny, and I’m just not good with my left hand, okay?”

“Why not?” Bucky grumbled. “I have no problem one handed.” He was a little surprised Steve hadn’t lost his belt last night.

Steve huffed. “Listen, you had practice.”

Bucky quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, well, thank God I lost my arm so that I was prepared for this situation.”

Steve’s blush paled so fast, Bucky almost snorted. “I didn’t mean—”

“Kidding.”

“Jerk.”

Bucky smirked. “Punk.”

“Okay, but seriously, I need help.”

Bucky blew out a quick breath. “Right.” He dragged his eyes from Steve’s face, past the hickey, down the cut of his abs, to the belt buckle. _Okay. You can do this, Barnes. This is not an arousing situation._

The buckle clinked open and Bucky slipped his fingers under the band of the pants to hold the fabric taut, ignoring the heat of Steve’s skin. Steve got the zipper down and Bucky turned around as fast and as far as he could. _Repeat: not an arousing situation._

He heard the toilet flush, and then, “Uh…”

 _Fuck._ Fastening pants one handed was even more difficult. Bucky’s mind flashed back to the moments of frustration after the accident. He had ended up wearing a lot of sweatpants and basketball shorts for a while. “Yeah, okay.”

“Um, how about—” Steve pinched the seam at the bottom of his fly, and yeah, probably better for Bucky not to accidentally grab his balls. But that left him with the zipper this time.

He tried not to look at the red boxer briefs or the outline of the shape within them. _Don’t think about his dick. Nope._ Bucky’s knuckles brushed the soft fabric, and he heard a stifled hiss. _Oh fuck, stop thinking about his dick. Do not think about grabbing it and stroking it and sucking—_

“There.” Bucky jerked his hands away, sweating. “Now my turn. And _I_ don’t need help.”

Steve kicked his ankle, which did help a little, because it actually hurt.

Steve sighed as they awkwardly washed their hands together. “Right. We’re not going to find it.”

“Probably not.”

“I think maybe we should just get a spare key from Natasha.”

Bucky grimaced. “Do _you_ want Natasha to see us like this? Because I can already hear the mockery.”

“Okay, so, we go back to my place and find a spare key in her room.”

Bucky rubbed his chin. “Risky, very risky… Going through Nat’s stuff? I usually value my life a bit more than that. But, the only other option is going to the store and buying another pair for the key.”

“No, thank you.”

“Not to mention, shirt and shoes required, and you can’t exactly wait outside.”

“Tony might have a key?”

“Oh, I’m sure he does. But one, his mockery would be even more obnoxious and enduring than Nat’s, and two, there’s not enough bleach in the world to get through Tony’s bedroom.”

Steve laughed and Bucky’s heart thumped like Pavlov’s dog. _Cut that shit out, heart. What the hell is that._

“Well, maybe I could steal a shirt, at least, so I don’t have to ride the train home like this?”

“Steve. How are you going to put it on?”

He smacked his forehead with a groan. “Ah, shit.”

* * *

Bucky was proud, in a way. It took a lot to get stared at in New York City. And he and Steve had succeeded. As they shuffled sideways through another turnstile, Bucky caught a mother covering her daughter’s eyes. _Well, I’d say this tops the list as most memorable walk of shame._  

Did it count as a walk of shame if you didn’t actually get any? That probably made it more shameful. _Seems like such a waste to not take advantage of these cuffs_. They took a seat because for some reason, everyone was giving them a wide berth.

“Bucky!” Steve hissed and jerked like he’d been shocked, suddenly on his feet, and taking Bucky’s arm with him.

Bucky looked where Steve’s eyes were locked. Standing on the platform outside was the creepy broken doll from last night, wearing Steve’s shirt. Bucky’s jaw dropped. The doors closed and as the train lurched forward, she lifted her hand in a little wave.

“That bitch…” Bucky shook his head, equal parts irritation and admiration. _Wonder if she’s friends with Natasha._

At the train’s second stop, a little old lady boarded and sat across from them, and Bucky felt Steve tense up.

“Oooooh,” the lady warbled in a creaky voice. “Is this a BOGO special?”

“Oh my god,” Bucky whispered, clapping a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking.

“Shh! Bucky! Don’t make eye contact!”

At the next stop, she actually moved to the open seat next to Steve. Bucky had to bite his hand to contain his laughter as Steve kept scooting closer and closer to him. _Thanks, Grandma._ He’d had stranger wingmen.

At the door of the apartment, Steve attempted to dig his keys out of his pocket.

“Y’know, this is good practice for you. If you lost your right arm, you would be _fucked_.”

“Oh, shut up…”

“Just—I’ll do it.” Bucky slipped his hand in Steve’s pocket, overly aware of the thinness of the fabric separating his palm from Steve’s thigh. Ignoring the quiet intake of breath, Bucky dangled the keys in front of Steve’s face. “Too bad you didn’t put the handcuff key on here, huh?”

They entered the apartment in silence, as though they were intruding, even though Steve lived there.

“Her room is at the end of the hall.”

“Man, this reminds me of the time my sister dared me to go into the haunted house at the end of our grandparents’ street.” Bucky matched Steve’s whisper.

Steve chuckled softly as they entered the bedroom. “Did you do it?”

“Of course,” Bucky scoffed. “I ain’t no chicken.”

“And did you see any ghosts?”

“Nah.” He smirked. “That’s not what I told Becca though.”

Steve pointed at the bedside table. Probably the most horrifying space in the room, but also their best bet.

Of course when Bucky opened the drawer, the first thing he saw was a purple vibrator and a knife the length of his forearm. “Goddammit.”

“It’s not as though we expected anything different.” Steve looked a little pale as he used the knife to nudge the toy out of the way.

It wasn’t all weird shit; there were pens, jewelry, safety pins, loose change. Mints—which they stole and shared. Batteries. Bucky didn’t want to think too hard about those.

He spotted a hair tie. “Oh, thank God.” Bucky tipped his head back, gathering his hair together, and paused. “Fuck. Uh, I’m gonna need a hand.”

“Don’t you think this situation is bad enough without puns?”

“Do you know how annoying all this hair is?”

Steve slowly ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair, once, then again, and Bucky realized he’d stopped breathing. Steve’s hand was warm where it brushed Bucky’s wrist when he pulled the elastic off and secured the ponytail. Steve cleared his throat. “Well, it’s, uh, really nice.”

Bucky turned his attention back to the drawer, just in case there was some sort of goofy expression on his face. He pulled out a metal chain decked with intimidating prongs and raised an eyebrow at Steve.

“Is that…a choke collar?”

Bucky dropped the collar. “We better fucking find a key in this drawer of horrors, I fucking swear.”

“Head’s up.”

Bucky looked up in time to catch a glass jar, before dropping it back in the drawer like it had burned him. “Ugh! A jar of honey?! Why! Why is this here and why would you force this knowledge upon me?”

“Because we’re in this together, Buck.” That shit-eating grin was far too attractive.

“Ass.”

“I found a bobby pin, do you think—”

“Shh!” Bucky clapped his hand over Steve’s mouth. Following the door was the sound of keys hitting the counter.

Steve closed the drawer quietly, eyes wide. Bucky tugged him to the closet, shoving him in and pulling the door shut behind them. His heart was pounding and he could feel Steve’s beating just as fast under his palm.

_Wait._

All of Bucky’s focus zeroed in on Steve’s chest under his hand. He should take his hand off Steve’s chest, right? That was weird. Right? He could feel Steve’s hot skin against his own chest through the tears in his shirt—barely held together at this point. He heard Steve exhale and felt warm breath on his ear that sent a shiver all the way down his spine. Just shifting his weight had him unintentionally grinding against Steve.

_Would’ve thought Nat would have a bigger closet._

The bedroom door creaked open, and Bucky felt Steve’s hand go to his hip. Maybe she wouldn’t take long. Maybe she was just here for the bathroom.

Other sounds now. Opening drawers? Whatever Natasha was doing, her shuffling around was taking way too long. Steve’s hand tightened on his hip and it was all Bucky could do to keep from pressing closer. The heat of Steve’s body, the whisper of his breath against Bucky’s ear. He bit his lip at a twinge in his cock. This situation was going to get a whole lot worse if they didn’t get out of this closet fast.

The bed squeaked. _Shit, is she going to take a nap? Does Natasha take naps?_ The TV clicked on and exuberant startup chimes filled the room. _God-fucking-dammit. Well, I guess we’re fucking stuck here._ He clenched his hand in a fist against Steve’s chest. Maybe she was just checking the weather _._ He held his breath, listening.

Silence.

Then a bell tolled.

More silence.

Bucky frowned. No…it couldn’t be. A low instrumental score rose into the most horrifying choir in his memory, then descended into a psychedelic cacophony of eerie clicking and chirping.

Bucky must’ve made a sound, because Steve spoke against his ear, “What?”

“This is fucking _War and Peace_ ,” Bucky whispered back frantically. “It’s seven fucking hours long!”

Steve groaned softly, his head slumping on Bucky’s shoulder.

 _Good thing he went with the right shoulder,_ Bucky thought absently. _Could’ve ended up with a pretty nasty headache there._ His hand twitched with the impulse to run his fingers through Steve’s hair. He bit his lip. He couldn’t even risk talking to distract himself. Steve’s hair brushed Bucky’s jaw as he turned his face into Bucky’s neck.

There was a clap of thunder from the TV, and Bucky forced himself to unclench his fist, relaxing his palm on Steve’s chest. The darkness of the closet left him blind and hyperaware of Steve’s warmth, how nice his hair smelled, and the hand on his hip which was…moving slowly up Bucky’s side.

 _Holy fuck, he’s trying to kill me._ Bucky swallowed thickly. The hand continued trailing upward as Steve lifted his head, and Bucky felt the soft brush of Steve’s breath on his lips. His own breath hitched as Steve’s hand slipped to his back, inching downward. The lower it slid, the faster Bucky’s heart beat.

At the small of his back, Steve’s hand stopped, but it wasn’t until Bucky was threading his fingers through Steve’s hair that he realized he’d moved his own. Steve let out a soft moan, and that was it. Bucky lost it.

Steve’s lips were fucking perfect. Soft and warm. He tasted so good. The more Bucky kissed him, the more he wanted Steve’s lips, and Steve seemed just as desperate. He squeezed Bucky’s hand, still laced in his own, and Bucky leaned into him, purposefully licking Steve’s mouth open. When their tongues touched, Bucky couldn’t stop his hips from rocking against Steve’s. Steve stumbled back, pulling Bucky with him, knocking a cluster of hangers together with a plasticky clack.

They stilled. Bucky felt the muscles in his face freeze in a panicked grimace and guessed that Steve’s expression matched his own. He glanced behind him, like the dark closet door would warn him of Natasha’s approach.

 _Okay, see, this was a warning, don’t mess around or Natasha will catch us and bury us alive._ But there was no way Bucky could have Steve this close and not touch him. His skin was smooth, his muscles hard, and Bucky lasted about three seconds before leaning in to find Steve’s lips once more. His stomach swooped when Steve tugged on his lip with his teeth. It was soft but insistent, and Bucky was pulled in, like a whirlpool he had no desire to escape.

Light suddenly flooded the closet.

“I was wondering why you weren’t coming out.”

Bucky dropped his hand from Steve’s chest, though the sight of Steve’s flushed cheeks and swollen lips made him hesitate for a second. He turned, scowling.

“ _War and Peace_? Really?”

Natasha rolled her eyes and stepped aside so they could exit the closet. She turned the TV off, then paused thoughtfully and offered Bucky the remote. “Unless you wanted to watch the rest?”

“Pass.”

She turned on her heel and strolled out of the room without another word. Bucky and Steve glanced at each other.

“Is she going to kill us?” Steve whispered.

“Not sure, but it’ll probably be worse the longer we wait.”

Steve nodded grimly, and Bucky gave his hand a quick squeeze.

In the living room, Natasha waved a hand at the couch. “Have a seat, boys.”

_Feels like the fucking principal’s office…_

“Listen. We can explain.” _Just like the principal’s office._

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I want to know.”

Bucky lifted his chin like he was offended. “Excuse me. Steve and I were just have a great chat, we fell asleep, and then someone took advantage of us in our helpless state and handcuffed us together.”

Natasha snorted. “I’m sure it went exactly like that.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. For all he knew, it did. “Did Clint come back to the party later on?”

“And no, he did not. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the thought, though.” She moved to the kitchen and started pulling things out of the fridge. “It’s nearly noon, I’m sure you’re both hungry. Eggs okay?”

Bucky met Steve’s eyes. _Surely she’ll help us out after this, right?_

Steve shrugged in response to the unvoiced question. “Yeah, eggs are fine.”

Well, he lived with her. Bucky would let him take the lead on dealing with the dragon known as Natasha.

Over breakfast, the three of them pieced together a more complete picture of the evening.

“Well—“ Natasha set plates of scrambled eggs in front of them. “Jessica said that when she left you two were deeply involved in a game of drunken charades with Peggy and Dottie.”

“Wait, who’s Dottie?” Bucky had zero recollection of charades of any sort.

“You know, she was the one in the doll costume. Her makeup was excellent.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “Wait, you know her? Dottie? That’s her name? She’s the one that stole my shirt!”

“Oh, come on now, Steve. You know how these parties work. Finder’s keepers and all that.”

“I don’t know—” Bucky paused to swallow a bite of egg. “Steve hasn’t been to that many parties.”

“It’s your fault I lost my shirt to begin with,” Steve leaned in to mumble in Bucky’s ear.

“Yeah, not apologizing,” Bucky whispered back.

“Well, I guess he knows the rules now. Right, Steve?” Natasha was curled up on the chair across from them, looking amused. They were really never going to hear the end of this one.

“Yeah, see if I ever go to a party with you guys again,” Steve frowned as he struggled to keep the eggs on his fork.

 _I am not feeding him,_ Bucky thought. _I have to draw the line somewhere, and feeding him while Natasha watches is absolutely that line._ Steve grinned triumphantly when he managed to eat a forkful without spilling. It was unfairly adorable.

Somehow they made it through breakfast.

“Thanks for the food, Nat.” Bucky stood automatically to bring the dishes to the kitchen, but ended up yanking Steve’s arm again. “How about the key to these handcuffs for dessert?”

Natasha stared at them blankly. “Oh, I don’t have it. Sorry.”

Bucky and Steve stared back.

“Wait, what?”

Natasha shrugged. “Check Clint’s. I think we last used them there.”

Steve’s frown deepened. “Hold on, you said these were new.”

Natasha didn’t hide her smirk quite fast enough. “Practically new.”

“Ugh, Nat,” Bucky groaned. “Come on, Steve. Let’s get this over with.”

“On the plus side, if you get arrested for indecent exposure, maybe the police will consider you adequately cuffed.”

“Goodbye, Natasha.”

* * *

“Oh, hey, Buck. You’re alive!” Clint paused his game of Legend of Zelda and stood up to stretch, scratching his stomach. 

Bucky rolled his eyes at Clint’s pizza boxers. “Come on, Clint… Are you too hungover for clothes, or what?”

“I don’t think you guys can talk, you’ve barely got one full outfit between you… Why’re you still wearing your costumes, anyway? It’s like—” Clint looked around for a clock that they did not own “—afternoon. Besides, you didn’t warn me company was coming over, roommate.” He threw Steve a scandalized look and covered his chest with an arm, as though he had any shame.

“Sorry, I was a bit…tied up,” Bucky said wryly, holding up his arm and Steve’s with it.

“ _Ha._ To both the pun and your predicament.” He leaned on the kitchen counter looking from Bucky to Steve and back again. “So did you just come over so I could laugh at you?”

“We were hoping you had keys to these? Natasha said there weren’t any at our place.” Steve’s expression was a combination of hopeful, bashful, and tired.

“Oh! Yeah, one sec.” Clint shuffled off in the direction of the bedrooms.

“And put on some pants!” Bucky called after him. Steve chuckled, and Bucky’s inner self yelled, _quick, get his number before he escapes!_ Which was ridiculous, it wasn’t like Steve was going to bolt the second the cuffs were off. Probably. “So, uh, Steve. We should do this again sometime.”

Steve gave him a look and Bucky felt himself flush. “I mean, without the handcuffs and hangovers. And more clothes.” _Not more clothes._

Steve grinned. “Maybe.”

He was going to give Bucky heart palpitations. “So do you have your phone or was that in your shirt too?”

“Very funny.” Steve fished his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Bucky just as Clint reemerged from the hallway.

“Found it!” He grabbed Bucky’s arm to unlock the cuffs, which seemed unnecessary and distracting as Bucky attempted to get his contact info into Steve’s phone before fate could interfere in any other cruel and unusual ways. “Aaaand, congratulations, you are free!”

The cuffs fell to the carpet with a muffled thump, and Steve sighed, rubbing his wrist.

“It’s strange, though,” Clint said, puzzled. “I could’ve sworn we had like, two extra sets of keys at Nat’s place. Weird.”

“Yeah.” Bucky shot Steve a flat look. “So weird.”

Steve laughed, slipping his phone back in his pocket. “Well, this has to be the most interesting Halloween I’ve ever had.”

“And one of the best, too, right?” Bucky winked.

“Definitely. But, uh, I’d really like to get out of this costume now, so I’d better head back.”

“Oh, hang on, you should borrow a shirt.”

Bucky jogged to his room and quickly dug through his closet looking for a shirt that would make Steve think, “Wow, what a cool guy, I should date him.” He did not see any such shirt. Bucky cursed under his breath and pulled out one of his favorite henleys.

“Thanks, Bucky.” Steve said, muffled as he pulled it on. It hugged his pecs in a way that was almost obscene.

 _I don’t really need that shirt back, Steve. Please, just keep it and wear it always._ “No problem.” Bucky walked him to the door, wishing he could come up with a reason to keep him there just a little longer. “Well, I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, I’ll text you. And I’m sure with our roommates, I’ll see you sooner rather than later.”

Bucky sighed as he locked the door. He flopped onto the couch next to Clint, stealing the box of Froot Loops out of his hands.

“See? This is what happens when you don’t do a couple costume with me. This year, handcuffed. Next year, jail, probably. We should start planning our costume now, just to be safe.” Clint put on Super Smash Brothers and handed Bucky a controller.

“Yeah, yeah.” His phone buzzed before he could select Kirby. Bucky grinned when a text from an unknown number popped up on the screen.

_Hey it’s Steve. Here’s my number, so feel free to text me next time Natasha invades. It’ll be nice to suck you._

Bucky had to read the text three times. Clint said something, but he didn’t hear it. Before he could get out a reply, his phone buzzed in his hand like a spastic bumblebee.

_*SEE_

_It’ll be nice to SEE you_

_Oh my god autocorrect_

_Suuuuuuure_ , Bucky typed back. He could just picture Steve’s flustered face. They were totally going to have a date next weekend, and whatever it was, it was going to be amazing, and Bucky already couldn’t stop smiling.

He opened the message thread again. _It’ll be nice to see you too_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it was worth the wait! I have somewhat of a plan, so hopefully we'll reach the finish by the end of the year!
> 
> If you're interested in watching all seven hours and seven minutes of War and Peace (1966 version) in all its glory, part one is [here](http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x14dfu8)! If you do, my god please tell me, I want to shake your hand. You should totally watch the first bit at least, because that intro is freaky.
> 
> Also, I'm totally just sputtering excuses here, but I have been writing many things over this past year (for a variety of fandoms), so once this is complete, there will be more things to come!
> 
> I am constantly on twitter as [@l0g0phile](https://twitter.com/l0g0phile) and sporadically on [tumblr](http://l0g0philewrites.tumblr.com/) so please come talk to me!
> 
> Your kudos and comments give life to this empty shell, so thank you.
> 
> UPDATE 12/26/17: So unfortunately, I will not be finishing this by the end of the year. I've really been drawn to working on my original fiction project, and I just cannot discourage myself from that. But I promise I absolutely will not abandon this, so thank you again for your kudos, comments, patience, and kind support. I hope your holidays have been wonderful and I will see you in the new year!


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